


short tumblr ficlets

by breakmystrings



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-14 06:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13002057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakmystrings/pseuds/breakmystrings
Summary: Short ficlets originally posted on my Tumblr.  Pairings are listed in the chapter titles.





	1. Mitch/Auston - "Shut up and kiss me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://breakmystrings.tumblr.com/post/166559946655/austonmitch-3-andor-4). Prompt from Sappy Prompts list: “Shut up and kiss me”

It’s a long flight back to Toronto.  Auston feels the exhaustion deep in his bones, his body aching from the bruising game, and all he wants is to sleep.  Mitch, on the other hand, can’t seem to settle, and once the plane is up in the air, he’s off pesting Naz about the game, a desperate need to talk through some things that Naz always indulges him with, as if _Auston_ isn’t right here with a willing ear and an eye for the game too.  

Okay, fine, Naz _has_ been around forever, but _still_ ; Auston can help too.  But instead, they insist on something-something about juniors, Ontario boys, and the London bond, as if any of that makes sense.  Auston doesn’t even pretend to understand.

Auston puts his chair back and tries to make himself comfortable enough to sleep.  It doesn’t always happen, but he figures he’s tired enough that he might get lucky and catch at least a couple of hours of sleep before they land. He keeps his eyes closed and tries to even out his breaths and force the tension away.  He curls his arms tight around the extra pillow and smooshes his face into it, imagines the smell of Mitch’s embarrassing fondness for Old Spice _Swagger_ , and just _breathes_.

It doesn’t work.

Auston absolutely does not grump about it.  He tosses and turns, can’t quite find the sweet spot where the seat doesn’t feel like it’s jabbing him in all his bruises, and he’s just about to give up when he feels someone plop down next to him, jostling him out of his position, and taps him on his shoulder.

“Aus, are you sleeping?” Mitch whispers much too loudly to be discreet.

“Not anymore,” Auston grumbles as he squints at Mitch, even if they both know he wasn’t actually asleep.

“Whoops,” Mitch says, not sounding guilty at all as he tugs on the blanket Auston was using until it comes free, and he forces his way under them to cuddle.  “Make room for me.”

“Thought you were busy with Naz,” Auston says, a little grouchier than he intended.  He is _not_ jealous of Naz.

“Aw Matts, were you lonely without me?” Mitch asks with a sly grin.  Auston jabs him in the ribs.  Mitch squirms with a laugh but snuggles back in.  Auston is dating an asshole.  “Naz is good to unwind with.”

It would be petty to be jealous.  Auston is not petty, but he is tired enough to admit he might be pouting.

Mitch kisses him. Auston tries to stay annoyed, but it’s mostly a waste of effort because the tension gives way to Mitch, who always knows just how to push his way into Auston’s space like it belongs to him.  “You’re cute when you’re jealous,” Mitch says when he pulls back with that Cheshire grin of his.  Auston hates him.  He tells him so, but Mitch just laughs.  “No you don’t.  Now shut up and kiss me.”

Auston would like to go back in time, when he was actually cool and had chill, and not completely at the mercy of Mitch-fucking-Marner.  He feels like he should be more embarrassed about it, but mostly he’s just happy, even if it’s completely uncomfortable to be kissing on these shitty leather seats and Mitch’s elbows are too damn pointy and jabbing him in all the wrong places.

Mitch pulls back eventually, brushing their noses together, and the gesture is unbearably sweet.  Any lingering (or made up) annoyance completely disappears in the face of Mitch’s soft smile.  It makes Auston melt back into his seat.  Thank god no one else is awake to witness the way Mitch has got him completely wrapped around his fingers.

“Nap with me,” Mitch says, his voice sleepy as he yawns around the words, and he tucks himself in comfortably along Auston’s side, arm thrown across his waist.

It’s almost too easy to after that, lulled to sleep between one breath and the next, with the steady rise and fall of his chest in-sync with Mitch’s.


	2. Mitch/Auston - breakup/makeup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://breakmystrings.tumblr.com/post/163720106945/cuddles-out-of-necessity-and-why-not-while), [here](https://breakmystrings.tumblr.com/post/165744335728/1-2-mitchauston-for-the-sappy-prompts), and [here](https://breakmystrings.tumblr.com/post/165779528128/i-thought-you-didnt-want-me-my-heart-eyes). I basically combined the three short fics into one since they all take place in the same verse. Warnings for drunk sex in the second part, non-linear.
> 
> Prompts from Cuddle Prompts: "Out of Necessity" and "While Someone is Crying", Sappy Prompts: “I’m in love with you” and “please don’t leave me”, and Sappy Prompts: “I thought you didn’t want me”.

**1**

Auston loves his team.  They try really hard to make everyone feel like they’re part of the team.  They’re like giant softies that all mean well, but that also means they’re going to be nosy as fuck and they like to stick their noses into everyone’s business because they don’t like it when the kids “fight”.  That’s how Auston gets locked into a tiny ass closet with Mitch until they “sort their shit out” and there’s barely any room for one person to be in there, let alone _two_ hockey players (no matter how much they like to chirp Mitch for being “small”).  Auston’s pretty sure they’re close enough that Mitch can actually feel his heart pounding.

“Um…” Mitch isn’t looking anywhere at Auston, like he finds the cleaning supplies infinitely more fascinating, and Auston stupidly wonders if it’s healthy for them to be inhaling these fumes and then instantly feels like a moron because _that_ is what his brain decided to focus on right now?  Cleaning supplies?  He’s a fucking moron.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch says finally, his voice soft and small in a way that Auston hates.  “It’s my fault.  Um… Mo noticed I was being, weird or something, around you, and obviously I couldn’t tell him what happened so him and Gards went all mother-hen.”  Mitch rolls his eyes, still not looking at Auston, but Auston feels the weight of those words press down on the still-healing bruise in his chest, a dull ache that makes him pause when he’s reminded of it.

Auston kind of really hates their team right now.

“Sorry,” Auston says quietly, and Mitch scratches his face, smiling weakly.

“You’re starting to get some Canadian in you,” Mitch says, like he’s teasing, but it falls flat; Auston winces before he can stop himself, from how awkward they’ve become.

Mitch starts fidgeting, the way he always gets when can’t get his nerves to settle, and Auston feels bad all over again.  Auston’s not sure what he’s thinking when he decides to reach out to touch Mitch, hands on his shoulders like he wants to keep him grounded.  He definitely wasn’t thinking.  Just like he didn’t think about what it meant when they fell  into bed together the first time, and every time after, until things got too serious for Auston to deal with.

Mitch’s head snaps up to finally meet Auston’s eyes.  The way he’s looking at him though, eyes wide and searching, it turns the dull ache into something more piercing, until Auston feels like he can’t even breathe because the weight has become too heavy.  He can’t handle the way Mitch is looking at him, and he looks hopeful and expectant for a brief moment before he jerks back like he was just hit, like he’s trying to get away from this situation they’re both in.  He’s chewing hard enough on his lip that Auston worries he’s going to cut it, and he can’t stop himself from running his thumb over it, tugging it gently free while Mitch’s face goes pink. 

(Auston really needs to learn how to let shit go.)

Mitch surprises him by suddenly wrapping both arms tight around Auston’s waist and he buries his face into the crook of his neck.  It’s like instinct for Auston to do the same around Mitch’s shoulders, to pull him in closer for something familiar, but it doesn’t ease the ache in his chest at all.

“Give me a minute,” Mitch mumbles.  It takes everything inside of him to ignore the way Mitch is hiding his face, the increasing dampness against his skin, and the way he’s shaking as he clings onto Auston like he’s scared to let go.  It’d be so easy to tell Mitch that he doesn’t have to, that maybe _this time_ , Auston won’t be scared of getting too close, that they don’t have to stop.  Auston’s rehearsed those conversations over and over again in his head, the words are on the tip of his tongue, and all he has to do is _say_ it.

Mitch pulls back after a few minutes, eyes red and sniffling but smiling again, and Auston can’t bring himself to saying anything at all.

**2**

They’re drunk. Not like, shitfaced, blackout, can’t remember kind of drunk, but they’ve definitely had more than a couple.  It makes them sloppy when Auston presses Mitch up against the wall and grinds against him until they’re barely even kissing anymore, just panting into each other’s mouths.  Auston keeps rolling his hips, chasing after that familiar feeling building up inside of him, and he comes much too quickly when Mitch bites down hard on his lower lip.  Mitch moans, and he’s shaking in Auston’s arms as he clings on.  


Auston falls forward, trapping Mitch against the wall, and his neck is right there for Auston as he tucks his face against it.  The skin is soft and warm, and Auston can feel Mitch’s heartbeat when he presses his lips on his pulse.  It’s too easy to press a kiss there, and another, and then another, until Auston is sucking a nice mark that’s just low enough to be hidden by the collar of his shirt to keep drawing out those sounds.  Mitch always makes the nicest sounds, soft hitches of breaths, and he keeps squeezing Auston’s arms, his grip hard and then soft and then hard again. It makes Auston smile, his chest warm and fuzzy.  He wants to keep drawing those sounds out of him, wants to make Mitch feel as good as possible because it makes _him_ feel good when Mitch is smiling and happy.

When he pulls back, Mitch looks like he’s in a daze.  His eyes are so dark that Auston can barely see any blue in them anymore.  Auston has to kiss him again.  And again. The sex is always so good with Mitch, the way Mitch open so beautifully for him, the way he uses his mouth and hands; Auston can’t stop, even if the way Mitch makes his heart flutter scares the crap out of him sometimes.

Mitch grabs Auston’s hand and drags him to bed so that they can make out some more.  Mitch is really, really good at it, uses his tongue in a way that makes Auston’s toes curl, and he has to drag his lips down his neck and chest just so that he doesn’t come too quickly again.  He sucks another mark over his ribs, and Mitch sucks in a breath, fingers twisted into Auston’s hair.   It doesn’t take long for them to get hard again, and Auston takes his time, fucking Mitch slowly with his fingers before sliding his dick in. He drags it out so that Mitch can feel every inch, until he’s gasping and shaking under him and Auston is fucking him hard into the mattress.

Mitch’s legs are locked around Auston’s waist, and he’s matching Auston, thrust for thrust, until Auston feels his orgasm building up inside him of him, his balls drawing tight as he hangs onto the edge.  All it takes to tip him over is Mitch gasping and moaning his name, clenching tightly around him as he comes first, squeezing him until Auston feels completely spent.

Auston takes back what he said earlier, the sex is _more_ than good: the sex is _amazing_. Auston can’t even move, sprawled out on top of Mitch with his dick still buried inside of him.  He should get up, pitch the condom, and then head back to his room.  He’ll get up in a minute.  It feels too good where he is right now.  Mitch’s body is too nice and warm under him, his fingers warm as they slide up and down Auston’s spine.  Auston closes his eyes.  Just a few more minutes.  He can have this for a little while longer.

It takes a lot of effort, but eventually Auston forces himself to get up when their breathing has calmed, and it’s a fucking mess getting the condom off when he’s soft. He tosses it in the trash and tries to clean himself quickly before doing the same for Mitch.  Before he can pull back though, Mitch grabs his wrist and says softly, “You can stay.  You don’t, you don’t have to leave.  Don’t… leave.”  Mitch’s voice sounds small, like he’s almost afraid to say that out loud.  It doesn’t sound like Mitch is just talking about tonight either, and Auston freezes.  He doesn’t move at all, _can’t_ , because it feels like if he does, he might do something he’s not ready to have out in the open yet.

“Have to.  Hymie’s coming back any minute,” Auston says, and he tries to be lighthearted when he adds, “You won’t even miss me.”

“I will,” Mitch says softly, and he looks sad.  “I’m in love with you.”  Auston can see the hurt in his eyes, the way the alcohol has made him too honest. Auston clenches his hands, his nails digging into his palm until he can feel a sharp pain from it, and he tries not to move.  He wants to look away, but he feels caught by the look in Mitch’s eyes, the way they’re wide and searching, and Auston feels the air around them grow heavy.  He tries to draw in slow, even breaths, but it comes out short and quick.

“You’re drunk,” Auston forces himself to say because he’s a coward and he wants the easy way out. “I’ll see you at practice.”

Auston doesn’t wait for a response before he picks up his clothes and leaves.

**3**

They’ve been doing this push and pull thing for months.

Come closer, that’s _too_ close.

Stay, have to go.

Yes, _can’t_.

It’s like being pulled in two different directions.  That’s why Auston wasn’t surprised when Mitch finally said enough was enough, and it has to be one way or the other.  Either Auston wants to, or he doesn’t.  In Mitch’s world, sometimes it’s as simple as that.  He’s straightforward with his feelings, wears his heart on his sleeve like no one else Auston knows, and he isn’t afraid of how people see him.

Auston can’t do that, so he chose the easy way out.  Mitch didn’t utter a single complaint to him, simply smiled and shrugged, like it was as easy as that.

Two months later, Auston gets to sit at team dinner with Mitch at the other end of the table instead of beside him, and he hears Marty ask Mitch about how his dates are going with this guy Marty decided to try and set Mitch up with.  Auston thinks Marty should just mind his own damn business, but he knows it’d be petty to say out loud.

Auston sees Mitch shrug from the corner of his eye, but he’s smiling when he says, “Third date when we’re back home.”

Marty cheers and goes for the fist-bump.  Auston goes straight for his beer, chugging it down, and he ignores the weird look Mo gives him.  Mo takes his job as team-dad too seriously.  He should chill out, like Gards, who reaches for the pitcher and happily refills Auston’s glass.

Dinner becomes an interrogation of this guy Mitch is seeing, someone Marty can’t seem to stop heaping praise on like a proud dad even though it’s just some friend of a friend who barely passes the low bar of liking hockey enough that he watches but not so much that he’ll hound Mitch with breakdowns of every turnover he makes.  According to Marty, he loves dogs, loves children, and is studying to become a teacher to prove it.  Auston tries really hard not to roll his eyes.

“Jay is a good kid,” Marty finally concludes with, after selling him as if he was perfect for Mitch.  “And somehow, he’s into our Mitchy here, so hold on while you can.”

Mitch shoves Marty, but he’s smiling like he used to, like he’s fine now, even if a few weeks ago he was the one that cried when they were pushed headfirst into that tiny closet. He’s fine, because things are always simple with Mitch, and Auston is now the only one left with a gaping hole in his chest that won’t heal, the one that misses Mitch like a phantom limb.

Auston chugs down his beer again.

“Whoa, easy there,” Mo says because he doesn’t know how to leave shit alone.  “Flight is bright and early tomorrow.”

“Let the kid live,” Marty says, teasing, but Auston sees him pull the pitcher further away, like that’s going to stop Auston from reaching for it again.

“Need to be more drunk to keep listening to this conversation,” Auston mutters, meaner than he intended.  Mitch looks at him, his brows creased and mouth tight, and Auston looks away as his cheeks warm.  The mood is suddenly a lot tenser, because Auston just decided to take that loose rubber band and stretch it until it’s on the verge of snapping.

Auston pushes his chair back.

“I’m going to head back first,” he says, tossing down a few bills.

No one stops him when he leaves.

*

There’s a knock on his door after Auston has had time to sulk by himself on his bed.  He gets up, agitated still, and is about to lay into Brownie for never remembering his key, but he shuts up immediately when he sees Mitch’s unimpressed face.

“Can I come in?” Mitch asks, but he’s pushing Auston aside before he can even say anything.

Auston doesn’t know what pushes him to do it, but he doesn’t like the way Mitch is looking at him, face drawn tight and his eyes sad, so he reaches out for Mitch’s arms the second the door is closed and backs him up against the wall. Mitch goes easily, the way he always does, and when Auston kisses him, Mitch kisses back like they never missed a step.  He can feel Mitch’s grip around him, fisting his shirt and holding on, and something eases in Auston’s chest, that ugly feeling from before slowly melting away.

Auston keeps kissing Mitch like he’s been wanting to since he walked out that closet with a resigned look on his face.

When they pull back, all Auston can hear is the sound of their heavy breathing, can’t focus on anything apart from how wide Mitch’s eyes are, the way he’s looking at Auston like he’s tired and lost, and that ugly feeling comes storming back.

“Fuck Matts, you can’t keep doing this,” Mitch says, but his grip doesn’t loosen on him.  He’s looking straight at Auston, but Auston wishes he wasn’t.  “I thought you didn’t want me.”

The words cut deep.

“That’s not fair,” Auston protests.  Mitch scoffs, finally looking away.

“What isn’t _fair_ is the way you keep pulling me back in right after pushing me away, like you _want_ to keep giving me hope only to take it away,” Mitch says.  Auston deserved that, he really did, but it still feels like a punch in the face to be said out loud.

No one says anything else for a while.  The silence stretches between them, but Mitch doesn’t pull away, his arms still wrapped around Auston’s waist, and Auston doesn’t want to lose this.  He’s sick and tired of being a coward about this.  He tightens his grip on Mitch’s hips when he feels his arms start to slip away, and he leans down to press his forehead against Mitch’s.

“Stay,” Auston whispers, so softly he’s not even sure Mitch heard.  “Don’t go.”

Mitch closes his eyes. “You were the one that always left.”

“Not this time,” Auston says, “I promise.”

Mitch doesn’t say anything for a long time.  Auston waits, his heart hammering in his chest, and he closes his eyes.  He keeps waiting, and waiting, before finally, Mitch’s arms pull away completely.  

Auston’s heart plummets, but then those are Mitch’s hands touching his face, cradling it so gently that Auston makes a sound he doesn’t even recognize because he’s so, _so_ relieved.

“Okay.”


	3. Mitch/Dylan - In the Moment Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://breakmystrings.tumblr.com/post/163768343955/prompt-in-the-moment-kiss). This snippet is part of a mermaid!AU I've been dying to finish but absolutely cannot :( Prompt from Kisses Prompts: "In the moment".

Dylan made a promise to Mitch when he saved Connor’s life that he’d show him what life on land was like, and to teach him how to skate when winter comes.  A royal promise is not made lightly, and it’s not that Dylan _forgot_ about it; it’s just that since Mitch made the deal to swap his tail for a pair of legs in exchange for his voice, he’s spent most of his time on land discovering random sweets and devouring them like he intends to roll back into the ocean when his time is up or burst into a rainbow of Skittles, whichever happens first.  So it’s definitely not Dylan’s fault that he’s caught off-guard when Mitch suddenly shows up with a surprisingly decent drawing of an ice rink and a hockey stick on his white board, pointing and gesturing eagerly at it.

“You want to go skating now?” Dylan asks.  Mitch nods his head enthusiastically and points to his drawing again.

Dylan looks at the pile of reading he was assigned to finish, but a promise is a promise and despite being a complete pain in the ass, Dylan would much rather spend time with Mitch than deal with his homework.  “Okay, let’s go skating.”

Mitch does a happy little jump and fist pump that makes Dylan smile.

*

There’s an outdoor rink at the palace that Dylan learned how to play hockey on with his brothers growing up.  Most of his skating memories were on that ice, and it’s not like Dylan _meant_ to bring Mitch to a place that means a lot to him, it’s just much more convenient because he won’t have to explain who Mitch is, why he’s there with the prince, are they in love, when are they going to adopt some cute babies, and so on.  He makes sure they’re dressed for the weather, grabbing toques and scarves, struggling with Mitch as he tries to force some gloves onto his hands (god, does have to be so damn difficult _all_ the time), and by the time he’s gotten them properly bundled up, the sun’s already set and the lights flicker on outside.

Dylan specifically asked for _no_ security detail, but of course, he catches sight of some of the guys trying to hide in the trees because they’re really not as subtle as they think they are.  He ignores them in favour of getting Mitch to sit down on the bench, who’s practically vibrating out of his skin with excitement, and he crouches down to help him with his skates.  He’s pretty sure this would make a scandalous picture, the prince on his knees for a nameless man, but they’re not out in public and Dylan doesn’t want him breaking his ankles because he doesn’t know how to tie his own skates.

It’s the first time Dylan’s done this for someone else, and it feels _weird_ , compared to doing it for himself, but Mitch stays surprisingly still while Dylan pulls the laces tight and asks, “Is that too tight?”

Mitch moves his foot a little, but then nods like he’s happy with it, so Dylan does the same with his other skate and gets up to quickly lace up his own.  He helps Mitch stand up so that he can learn how to balance his weight with the skates on, and he faceplants right into Dylan’s chest.  Dylan laughs and tries to get him upright again.  That doesn’t seem to deter him at all, and he seems to get more and more excited as Dylan leads him onto the ice.  It reminds Dylan of the first time he went on the ice with his dad, his little five year old heart nearly bursting with excitement, and the first few steps were like flying.  He hopes it’s the same for Mitch.

Dylan turns to step backwards onto the ice so that he can hold onto both of Mitch’s hands in front of him to help him stay balanced.  “Okay, careful now,” he says, and Mitch rolls his eyes because he’s an ungrateful tool, but he doesn’t pull away when Dylan guides him through his first few steps onto the ice (shuffles, really).  It takes a second for Mitch to get used to the ice under his skates, and when he looks up, it’s like the smile blossoms on his face, stretching wide and happy until his eyes are crinkling with it.  He looks like he’s on top of the world.  Dylan can’t help smiling back, ducking down because he doesn’t want to think about the warm feeling that’s blooming in his chest when he sees Mitch’s happy face.

They skate like that for a little while, letting the silence fall over them comfortably, and Dylan is either the best instructor in the world or Mitch is a natural because he picks it up pretty quickly.  It doesn’t take long before Dylan pulls his hands back and just watches Mitch as he shuffles his feet slowly on the ice with his arms flapping out once in awhile.  He tries to keep them stretched out in front of him though, like he’s reaching for Dylan, but Dylan keeps his hands behind his back and laughs as Mitch desperately tries to catch up.

“I think I like you better like this,” Dylan says, teasing.  “Don’t have to hear your annoying voice all the time.”

Mitch sticks his tongue out at him, but he’s smiling as happy as Dylan has ever seen him.  He’s practically radiating it all around him, that’s the only way to explain why Dylan’s chest feels so full, like he’s feeding off it.  He tries to keep his attention focused on Mitch’s movements instead of whatever’s going on inside of him, but he’s doing well, and he’s learning to pick up some speed.  When he attempts to turn though, he flops spectacularly onto the ice.  Dylan doesn’t even bother trying to hide his delighted laugh while Mitch pouts at him.

“Sorry man, but that was pretty bad,” Dylan says, smiling, but he offers a hand out to help Mitch up.  Mitch takes it, and just as Dylan is about to pull, Mitch yanks him down and Dylan yelps as he flops onto the ice even more ungracefully than Mitch did.  He scowls at him while Mitch just laughs silently, and he manages to get up just fine on his own and shuffles away.  He turns back, giving Dylan an impish smile, and he beckons Dylan to come after him like a challenge.

Dylan has never been known to back down from one.

It takes him less than three solid strides to catch up to Mitch, but he ducks from his hand and somehow manages to twist away to go the opposite direction.  Dylan is impressed, but he’s not going to get shown up by an amateur, and he turns just in time to tap Mitch on the shoulder like a game of tag.

“Gotcha,” Dylan says.  He skates backwards and motions for Mitch to try and catch him next.  It takes Mitch a second to get it, but when he does, the smile lights up on his face like a switch has been flipped and he tries to speed up.  Dylan laughs at his clumsy skating, but he gets better and better throughout the night.

They play tag for a while longer (Mitch only falls twice trying to catch Dylan), and it’s the most fun Dylan’s had in awhile, chasing each other like the rest of the world doesn’t even exist anymore.  He feels breathless from laughing so much, and he’s surprised when he feels Mitch throw himself at him from behind, catching him with both arms wrapped tight around his waist.  

They stumble, and Dylan’s laughing while he tries to catch Mitch’s weight and keep them upright.  He turns around so that he can grab Mitch’s arms in front of him, but Mitch can’t seem to settle.  He’s gesturing wildly with his arms excitedly like there’s too much he wants to say but can’t.  His face is flushed and he’s smiling so happily, like this is the best night ever, and that’s all Dylan can see, the brightness in his eyes, the shape of his lips and the feeling in his chest just overflows out of him.

Dylan cups Mitch’s face in his hands and kisses him mid-flail.

It’s a quick kiss, a barely there thing that stuns Dylan enough to pull back.  Mitch looks at him, eyes wide and surprised, and Dylan starts to freak out about the fact that _he_ just kissed Mitch, the annoying merman that has been the bane of his existence since they were little, but this is the same Mitch that saved Connor when Dylan thought he’d lost him forever, the one that smiles at Dylan like he’s the best thing in the world when he’s not tormenting him to death (and maybe even during sometimes), and there’s no other being (on land or in the sea) that makes Dylan _feel_ as much as he does when he’s with Mitch.

Dylan thinks about how to explain all of that to Mitch, how to _hide_ it, but he’s surprised when Mitch stretches up to meet his lips, kissing him deep and sure with a desperation that makes Dylan wonder if he’s wanted to for a long time.  

It feels like everything stills in that moment, like nothing else matters except that they’re there, that _Mitch_ is there, like everything Dylan didn’t know he wanted.  Dylan kisses him back and just, _holds_ on, while he still can.


	4. Mitch/Auston - Simba the cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally prompted/posted [here](https://breakmystrings.tumblr.com/post/164979313180/9-you-live-in-the-apartment-next-to-me-were-not) from AU Meet Cute prompt list: “You live in the apartment next to me. We’re not supposed to have pets, but I KNOW you have a cat.  I’ll make you a deal, I won’t tell, if you let me pet it.”

Mitch’s new neighbour has a cat, he is _sure_ of it.  He’s found all the evidence without seeing the cat himself.  There was the box labeled “Simba” (an awesome name for a cat, if Mitch has to say so himself) when he first moved in, the bag of kitty litter Mitch saw in the trash (no, he was not _snooping_ Marty, he just happened to be throwing out his trash at the same and saw!), and the constant fur that sticks to his clothes; there’s no other explanation except for a cat.  

Also, there’s a cat in his apartment that is definitely not his.  A cat that probably climbed in through the window he left open, and the only unit with a balcony close enough to his is his super hot neighbour that for sure has a cat.  He is _definitely_ snapping this to prove he’s not insane. Marty can bow before Mitch’s amazing detective work.

“So how’d you get in here?” Mitch asks, reaching forward with a hand to pet the cat’s soft orange fur.  It purrs instantly, pushing up against Mitch’s hand, and curls towards him. Mitch laughs from the ticklish touch, delighted, and he picks up the cat into his arms.  It comes easily and upon closer look, he sees that it’s a boy. “Well buddy, aren’t you friendly.” The cat headbutts him, nuzzling his neck, and Mitch falls in love a little.  He checks out the tag but it doesn’t have an address.  It only has the name “Simba”, but that’s enough for Mitch to know who he belongs to.

“Well Simba, we better go find your Mufasa before he sends out the search party,” Mitch says, lifting him up in front of him with a big smile.  Simba meows happily in agreement.

*

No one answers when Mitch knocks on the door. He’s got Simba hidden inside of his hoodie in case their batshit crazy landlord decides to patrol the hallways again for “excessive” noises or “abnormal” smells.  He hears footsteps approach, and he’s just about to book it back to his apartment when he sees a familiar face.  Auston’s not smiling this time though, his hands stuffed into his pockets as his eyes sweep back and forth on the ground.  His brows are furrowed, and he looks sad enough that Mitch wants to give him a hug (though to be fair, that’s kind of Mitch’s default mode with most people).

Mitch clears his throat and Auston’s head snaps up, like he didn’t expect to see him.

“Uh, hey,” Auston says.  His smile looks painfully fake, something Mitch isn’t accustomed to seeing on his face, and Mitch decides to put him out of his misery.  He unzips his hoodie just enough for Simba’s head to poke out and meow happily before hiding him again.  Auston’s face absolutely lights up and Mitch is pretty sure he falls in love when Auston smiles, but it falls after a moment and he looks caught.

“Let’s talk inside your apartment,” Mitch says quickly. Auston nods and fumbles for his keys. It takes him three tries before he manages to get the door unlocked and let’s Mitch inside.  Simba jumps out from inside Mitch’s hoodie the second they door closes behind them, like he knows he’s safe now and wanders off for water or food or whatever’s in those cute little dishes.

“Look, I know the policy about pets,” Auston says quickly, “but I’ve had Simba for a few months already before I moved in so I couldn’t exactly give him up, and my old neighbour was driving me up the wall. Can you please just, keep this between us?”  Auston looks desperate, a little wild  around the eyes, and someone would have to be stone cold to say no to the pleading face he makes.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Mitch says, and Auston looks like he’s bracing himself for the worst, “I’ll keep this secret for you if you let me come over whenever I want to play with Simba.”

Auston flinches, like he’s surprised, but then his shoulders visibly sag in relief, and he says, “Really?  That’s it?”

“Yup,” Mitch says, and he crouches down when Simba wraps himself around his legs.  He scratches Simba under his chin, laughing when Simba jumps onto his lap and he holds onto him in his arms when he straightens up.  “Look at this little guy?  Who wouldn’t want to cuddle with him?”  Mitch nuzzles his cheek against Simba’s soft fur and presses a kiss on top of his head.  Simba _purrs_.  Mitch is completely in love with how affectionate and sweet Simba is.  So, _so_ much better than his mom’s cat, who hates Mitch with a fiery passion it seems.  

“Uh… yeah, you can come over whenever you want,” Auston says, interrupting Mitch and his bonding time with his cat.  Auston’s cheeks look a little pink, like he’s flustered, and Mitch smiles because damn if that look isn’t adorable.

“Deal.”


	5. Mitch/Dylan - "love goes on"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prequel of sorts to the singer!Mitch AU that I've talked about on my Tumblr but haven't written. Originally filled [here](https://breakmystrings.tumblr.com/post/168808456355/mitchdylan-top-of-head-kisses) and [here](https://breakmystrings.tumblr.com/post/168406178395/dylan-mitch-youre-the-most-beautiful-thing-ive) (there are bonus tidbits at the end of this post) with some minor changes. The song lyrics referenced in the fic should be linked wherever I use them, and I highly recommend giving them a listen because they're lovely songs and fit quite well with Mitch/Dylan in this verse :)

_** 2014 ** _

 

Mitch doesn’t consider himself to be completely spontaneous, but it was on a whim that Mitch decided to hop on a plane and join Dylan in Gothenburg, and it was on a whim that they decided to queue up with a random crowd lined up in front of a club (“If there’s a line, must be something good right?” Dylan suggested with a big smile). Both turned out to be the right decision to make. 

 

The club is dark and loud, packed full of screaming fans that don’t seem to care or recognize who they are, and it makes it all too easy for Dylan to snuggle up behind him, his chest warm and solid against Mitch’s back. Dylan’s arms are wrapped tight around Mitch’s waist while they sway to the beat of the music. It’s something small, but it’s refreshing not to have to worry about being too close in public, about being caught or seen. No one here cares who they are. They’re just here to have fun, to sing and scream and dance to everyone’s favourite songs. Mitch loves it.

 

The band isn’t one they’ve heard of before, but their music is good and they’re probably pretty popular here considering the crowd that gathered long before the club even opened their doors. Mitch can tell Dylan gets progressively more and more into it, the way he always gets when he discovers new music. He’s singing loudly with all the fans as if he knows all the lyrics, but his energy is infectious because it makes Mitch want to sing along too, tripping over the words as he tries to follow. Not that it matters though, he just wants to scream along with everyone else.

 

“ _Looking back at yesterday, now there’s nothing else missing, no, the puzzle is closed and complete, and I’ve never felt so whole, and I will never leave your side._ ”[1](https://youtu.be/RmpawyA2WCs)

 

Mitch doesn’t think he’s imagining it, the way Dylan’s arms tighten around him as they singalong, and he feels Dylan press a firm kiss on the top of his head. It makes Mitch want to melt back into his arms, from the way Dylan makes him so warm and content inside. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on Dylan’s low voice singing into his ear.

 

“ _For every step I will be there for you, for us, and every second for the rest of my life, you will find me here, you will find me here_.” [1](https://youtu.be/RmpawyA2WCs)

 

The warmth and affection swells inside of Mitch; it feels like Dylan is singing those words specifically for him.

 

“ _I will be standing by you until the end_.” [1](https://youtu.be/RmpawyA2WCs)

 

Mitch blushes at the feel of Dylan’s breaths warm on his cheeks, the way his arms go impossibly tight around him like he doesn’t want to let go, and he has to angle his head back to look up at Dylan. His eyes are bright and focused, staring straight at Mitch with an intensity that he’s still not used to, and he has to tilt his head up to kiss him. The angle is awful, but the feeling inside his chest feels too big, like if he doesn’t do something about it, he might burst with it.

 

“Hey Dyls,” Mitch says when they pull apart, practically having to scream with how loud the music is, “I love you.” Dylan’s eyes go wide, mouth parted like a goldfish, but the smile he gives Mitch after, much bigger and happier than before; it makes Mitch feel warm and fuzzy all over.

 

“I love you too,” Dylan says, practically tripping over the words, like he couldn’t wait to get the words out, and Mitch can’t help it, he laughs, he’s too delighted not to. He loves Dylan so fucking much. “Hey, don’t fucking laugh when I say that.”

 

“I’ll laugh if I want,” Mitch says nonsensically, but then he’s twisting in the circle of Dylan’s arms so that he can kiss Dylan properly. It doesn’t matter that they’re surrounded by people. In the crowd, it feels like they could be anyone, anywhere, but all that matters is that Dylan is here with him. As long as Dylan is with him, Mitch feels like the entire world could go up against him, and they’ll still be fine. They always are.

_**** _

****

**_2015_ **

**__**

Mitch is late. So, _so_ late, but he makes it before the last set, and he’s in the box just trying to catch his breath from all the running he had to do when he hears Dylan’s voice boom through the sound system, “Over the summer, I went to Sweden and stumbled across this free concert. It was like a private showing for their album launch, and that’s where I heard this song for the first time. I fell in love with it, and I want to share it with everyone here, but especially with one person. This person is very important to me, they’ve been there for me for a long time, and, well.” Dylan pauses, smiles almost bashfully before he continues, “I hope you’re here to hear it. The song is called ‘Perfect the Way You Are’.” The fans scream and Mitch feels his heart stop, his entire being just, _seizes up_ , and he can’t breathe while he watches Dylan adjust the guitar strap on his shoulder and smiles at the crowd.

 

It takes Mitch back, when he hears the familiar notes fill the arena, the song that quickly became one of their favourites. The concert was incredible, a gift back to the fans, and no one there knew or cares who they were. They just wanted to listen to the music, and they embraced the anonymity of it all as they held hands while everything was still new, singing along to every new song they heard and falling in love like it was something inevitable.

 

“Your boy is insane,” Marty says suddenly, startling Mitch out of his daze, and he can’t help it, he laughs. Dylan _is_ insane, but when he watches him sing, Mitch can see and hear the passion in his voice, the emotion in his words as his lips press against the mic, eyes closed and completely in his zone. 

 

“ _’Cause you’re amazing, look at you smiling, and don’t change anything, there’s no denying. You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, don’t listen to what they say about you, you’re perfect just the way you are._ ”[2](https://youtu.be/sLTNZNJgdDE)

 

It’s one of Mitch’s favourite things about Dylan, the way he sings like no one is watching, like everyone _should_ be watching, and being able to witness Dylan in this moment, Mitch thinks he falls in love with him all over again.

 

*

 

Mitch waits for Dylan in his dressing room, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and he has to twist his hands together to try and calm some of the nerves. It feels like forever before Dylan finally appears from behind the door, sweaty and tired but smiling as warm and happy as the sun. Mitch can’t help it, he pounces and he can hear Dylan make a startled sound but he catches Mitch around the waist anyway. 

 

They stumble but Mitch doesn’t want to let go, and they end up falling back onto the couch. Mitch laughs, he can’t help it, and neither can Dylan apparently.

 

“You’re so fucking crazy, you know that?” Mitch says breathlessly, but Dylan looks completely unrepentant. He feels so warm and solid under him, his arms wrapped protectively around Mitch’s waist to keep him steady. “They’ll know. The fans will know we were there together.”

 

“I don’t care,” Dylan says with a vehemence that surprises Mitch, but then his face falls, and Mitch would do anything to take that away as the uncertainty washes over his features. “Do you care? Shit, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. I know we talked about it before, but I should’ve asked again.”

 

Mitch rolls his eyes and shushes him before he can go on. “You know I don’t care,” he says, and he softens his voice. “I’m all in.” It’s scary how much he means it too. They’ve known each other their entire lives, always battling for that top spot in auditions, but it never felt right without Dylan there being a thorn in his side. It took a long time for Mitch to realize what it all meant, what _Dylan_ meant to him.

 

Dylan smiles, wide and brilliant, and says, “I’m all in too.” He pulls Mitch down to kiss him, firm and sure, and Mitch just melts. He loves Dylan so fucking much, he doesn’t know what to do with himself sometimes.

 

“I meant every word out there,” Dylan says when they pull apart, hands cupping Mitch’s face. “You’re the most beautiful person to me.”

 

Mitch blushes. It takes a lot of willpower to resist making a joke to ease the sudden heaviness in the room, but he doesn’t want Dylan to think he’s not taking this as seriously as him. “I love you, _so_ fucking much, it scares me sometimes,” Mitch says, and the smile Dylan gives him is worth every bit of vulnerability he feels at admitting that out loud. It’s not the same as thinking it to himself, like it makes it more real, what he’s willing to give up for Dylan, for _them_.

 

“I love you too,” Dylan says before he kisses him again. Mitch’s chest feels so full, he can’t imagine ever feeling happier than this.

 

 

_** 2017 ** _

 

“ENCORE! ENCORE! ENCORE!”

 

Mitch is already dressed down to his sweats, towel wrapped around his neck to wipe the sweat from his face, but he hears the chants and his hand itches to reach for his guitar. Marty puts a firm hand on his shoulder, and says, “Hey, you don’t have to go out there again. You’ve already done two extra sets.”

 

“I know,” Mitch says, but he gives in to the itch, and he grabs his acoustic guitar from the stand. “Just one more.” He smiles, and Marty shakes his head at him, but he pats him on the shoulder and Mitch knows that he’s won. It’s his first sold-out arena, in his hometown no less, and he can’t help wanting to stretch out this moment for a while longer.

 

“I’ll see if I can get the band to come back out again with you,” Marty says but before he can chase them down, Mitch stops him and shakes his head.

 

“They’re tired. I can do this by myself,” Mitch says.

 

Marty makes a face at him. “Been planning this for a while or what?” Marty asks, mostly joking, but Mitch feels the ache in his chest return.

 

“Something like that.”

 

*

 

Mitch steps back out onto the stage to the screams of the fans, and he gives a small wave as the guys get the mic set-up again. He didn’t bother changing back to something more presentable than his sweats and t-shirt, but he figures the fans won’t mind.

 

“Thanks Bobby,” Mitch says when the mic is working again and he rushes off the stage. “These guys were ready to call it a night but your chants got us to come back one more time. Can we get some love going for them?” Everyone screams and applauds with Mitch. “Even I was ready to call it a night, if you can’t tell already.” He gestures to his clothes and the laughter fills the otherwise quiet arena. He looks down with a smile, adjusting the strap on his guitar, and makes himself more comfortable on the stool.

 

The stage is simple, nothing like the blinding lights and screens from before. There’s just a single spotlight shining down on Mitch with nothing else around him. It’s as stripped down as Mitch feels, like Mitch is back to performing on a small stage with an audience mostly filled with friends and family, but that’s what Mitch likes the most. Just him, his guitar, and the people that want to hear his music, but this time, he doesn’t want to sing his own songs.

 

“I want to apologize first,” Mitch says, “because I’m not here to sing one of my own songs.” There’s some scattered protests, but Mitch ignores them in favour of pushing forward. “It’s from an artist I discovered while I was in Sweden a few years ago. I fell in love with their sound, along with the person I was there with.” There’s screaming, _so_ much screaming, but Mitch closes his eyes and continues. “They’re not here today, but I want to dedicate this number to them. It’s called ‘For Every Step’ and ‘Promise Me’.”

 

Mitch keeps his eyes closed and it’s quiet, like there’s no one else around him. It’s too easy to let the music flow through him, to guide the pick through the chords, and the words feel like they’re stripped right from his chest.

 

“ _My heart is in your hands, a bond so unbreakable, I have never felt like this before, I never knew it was possible, I never knew I was capable. You can never break a bond like this, and I will never leave your side, for every step I will be there for you, for us, and every second for the rest of my life._ ” [1](https://youtu.be/RmpawyA2WCs)

 

Mitch feels the warmth of the spotlight on him, the sweat that’s mixing with tears that are gathering at the corners of his eyes, but it’s not the same kind of ache in his chest as before. He feels, not _relieved_ , but like a weight has taken off his shoulders, and he hopes the song can say the words he couldn’t.

 

“ _Promise me to think of us, as a time so beautiful, promise me to think of us, still bright, still colorful, promise me to look back at us, as a time in your life, you enjoyed. I will be fine, without you._ ”[3](https://youtu.be/D3q8d6tODcw)


	6. Mitch/Auston - What happens in Vegas...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally filled [here](https://breakmystrings.tumblr.com/post/169161729955/mitchauston-loud-so-everyone-can-hear) for the prompt "Loud, so everyone can hear" from the "I Love You" list. Had a little (or a lot of) fun with this one :)

Auston wakes up with a raging headache, like someone decided to take a jackhammer to his brain. It takes him a few painful moments to realize that the rock sitting on his chest is actually Mitch passed out on top of him and that they’ve got a pair of handcuffs locked tight around their wrists. He shoves Mitch off of him, but he’s a fucking idiot because they’re _handcuffed_ together so he goes with him, and Mitch makes a pained sound, whining and high-pitched, like a puppy, which would normally make Auston laugh if it didn’t feel like his head was going to split.

 

Oh god, what did they _do_ last night.

 

“Mitchy, wake up. _Wake up_ ,” Auston groans, pushing at Mitch’s shoulders until his eyes squint open.

 

“Matts, it’s too early to play,” he mumbles and tries to roll over to go back to sleep, but that motion tugs on the handcuffs and it seems to wake him up. “What the fuck?”

 

What the fuck indeed.

 

“My head hurts,” Mitch whines, lifting their joined hands and blinking stupidly at them, like he can’t quite figure out what’s going on, like the beaten metal has personally offended him or insulted his mom. “Matts, why are we handcuffed?”

 

“The fuck would I know,” Auston grumbles unhappily. He reaches for his phone but it’s completely dead and it refuses to turn on. He whacks Mitch again.

 

“Stop it,” Mitch whines again, rolling over to tuck himself into Auston’s side like he thinks hiding is going to get rid of their killer hangovers and the fact they got themselves _handcuffed together_ last night and they can’t remember shitall.

 

“Your phone. Check it,” Auston tries to demand but it comes out more like a weak, pathetic whimper. Whatever. It gets Mitch moving, digging into his pockets for his phone. He shoves the thing practically up Auston’s nose, and then proceeds to make a home for himself back along Auston’s side, face hidden in his chest like he’s going right back to sleep. 

 

Fuck that. If Auston can’t sleep, Mitch can’t either, and he jabs him hard in the side to wake him back up. Mitch hits him back, but at least he does as he’s told. Auston gets Mitch to unlock his phone so that he can look through his messages to make sure they didn’t do anything illegal last night (minus the drinking, but whatever, he’s totally legal in Canada and Auston will play that card when he needs to). 

 

Mitch’s face pales suddenly, and not in the “I need to throw up because I’m so hungover way.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Auston asks and he shoves his face closer to Mitch’s so he can see what’s on the screen. It’s a video of them at a wedding chapel, hanging off of each other and the handcuffs are nowhere to be seen. Fantastic. Apparently even fucking plastered, they still need to be all over each other. It’s not like the team doesn’t think they’re codependent as is.

 

Mitch turns up the volume just in time for Auston hear him declare loudly, “I Mitchell Marner,” pause for giggles and loud cheers from the team that is doing absolutely nothing to stop this madness, “will love and _respect_ the one and only Auston Matthews forever.”

 

There’s no other word to explain it, drunk-Auston absolutely lights up and _giggles_ , all shy and bashful and delighted that makes hungover-Auston want to die of shame, oh god.

 

“And I, Auston Matthews,” pause for drunk-Auston to point a thumb back at himself (Jesus, he’s fucking embarrassing when he’s drunk), “promise to _cherish_ and _love_ Mitchell Marner forever and ever.”

 

Mitch laughs, just as delighted as Auston was earlier, if not even _more_ , and proceeds to throw himself into Auston’s arms while the officiant goes on about love and commitment and pronouncing them something or another, but clearly whoever was tasked with recording the proceedings doesn’t care because it’s all focused on the two of them, Mitch in Auston’s arms and sticking his tongue down his throat. There’s so much cheering and hollering, like they just scored the Stanley Cup winning goal.

 

“Oh my _lord_ ,” Mitch groans. “Lou is going to trade me to fucking Arizona.”

 

Auston would only be so fucking lucky.


End file.
